Nighthawks At The Diner
by Bluenose
Summary: With his other agents already involved in cases, Joe is forced to send Lily undercover on a case that may prove to be too much for her. Title provided by Tom Waits.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Joe! Good to see you!"

"And you, Tim." Joe gripped the other agents hand and slid into the booth seat opposite Tim, his nose twitching as the aroma of coffee and pie washed over him in waves. He tried to ignore his rumbling stomach. He set a small manila folder on the seat next to him. He sighed when he saw Tim's eyes fix on it greedily and picked it up. Holding it tightly in his lap. "What's this all about Tim?"

"Do you want something to eat? The pie here is fantastic!" Tim's eyes stayed focused on the folder, almost without him realising.

Joe waved his hand in front of Tim's face. "Nah, I'll get something later. What's going on?"

Tim blinked at the hand in his face, shaking himself enough to look at Joe. "I need help with a case."

"What case?"

"You ever hear of the Church of the Repentant Sinner?"

Joe slumped back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A little. Supposed to do quite a lot of good in the likes of Farmington and Vista Heights, aren't they?"

Tim snorted. "My fucking ass! We think all of that's just a cover. We think that the Church is up to it's grubby little armpits in extortion, vigilantes, arms dealing, drugs, and God alone knows what else." He gave another brief snort of laughter at his own joke. "All the usual shit you'd expect a law abiding, God fearing organisation to be involved in." He lowered his voice. "We think that the Reverend McNeill has at least one murder on his hands." He snorted again, bitterly. "Some minister."

"And you want me to put one of my guys in the middle of this mess. See what they can find out?"

"Exactly. You got any scenarios you can use?"

"Maybe." Joe closed his eyes, thinking. Then nodded. "Yeah, I gotta a couple of ideas that might work out." He drummed his fingers on the table, ignoring the brief rattle of cutlery. "Let me talk to my guy, see what she says and I'll get back to you."

"This is a big case for me, Joe. We've been closing in on this prick for a while now, I cant afford to let this slip."

"It's not my call to make, Tim…"

"I know, Joe. It's just…I've been after this evil bastard for so long. I need this one, Joe." Tim leaned back, shaking his hand. "You haven't seen all the shit I've got Moses McNeill connected to. I just need that one piece to…"

He closed his fist.

xxxXXXxxx

Darnell strolled into the diner.

Keeping his sunglasses on, his back to the wall, he glanced about the restaurant. Trying to block out the smells and the sounds…

There.

He swaggered through the diner, trying to loom as large as he could, his shoulders pushed back, his chest out, both waitresses and customers leaning out of his way. Most of them moved back willingly enough, trying to avoid the smell of the docks attached to his clothes and skin. He sat down in the seat recently occupied by another agent.

His handler grinned. "I swear Darnell, that routine gets funnier every time you do it."

"It's easier to stay in character if I don't go out of character." Darnell drew out his accent. "Helps me to think."

"Very true. What do you got for me?"

"Next shipment is due in the next six or seven days." Darnell grinned a gold stud in his tooth glistening in the dim light. "We're supposed to unload the crates from the barge into the warehouse. Michael Benson and his boys go through them, take the gear away, load them onto lorries." He flexed his shoulder, grimacing. "Cant say I'm looking forward to that bit."

"How do they know which crates has the merchandise?"

"I don't know. I'm still working that bit out. I'm just trying to make sure I get overtime that night. I'll work the rest out later." Darnell took a mouthful of Joe's coffee and stood up. "I'd better get back."

"Okay, Darnell. I'll let LAPD know." He tapped his finger against Darnell's chest. "Be careful. You hear me?"

"I hear you boss."

xxxXXXxxx

"You better have something for me Joe." Heather sat down in the booth. "I got to tell you, I'm getting pretty damn sick and tired of cooling my heels."

Joe laughed and slid the folder across the table. "Don't worry, I got something for you." He watched as she picked up the folder, flicking through it, stopping to glance at the photos. "His name is Frank Mulholland."

"Who is he?"

"Local politician." Joe lit a cigar, carefully blowing the smoke away from her. "He's small fry, but he's ambitious. LAPD's had their eyes on him for a while. He's trying to buy nominations."

"Which party?" Heather's eyes flicked from the folder to Joe's face.

Joe barked a laugh, sending fragrant clouds of cigar smoke over the table, ignoring the indignant coughing coming from the couple behind them. "Republican of course. Dontcha know that all the real bastards are republican?"

"I knew there was a reason I voted Democrat." She closed the file. "You want me to in there, don't you? What's the character?"

"His assistant quit. You're her replacement."

"How do you want me to play it?" Heather leaned forward, ignoring the smoke. "Sexy, flirty, provocative, yet maddeningly professional?" Her accent and manner changed as she ticked off the points. Getting into character already. "Just that little bit out of reach, making him wonder what he has to do just to crack my cool?"

Joe stubbed out his cigar. "Something like that."

"I like this girl already."

xxxXXXxxx

"What'd you got for me Joe?"

Her excitement and enthusiasm was almost contagious. Joe sighed and picked his hat up, pulling it down low over his eyes. Made it easier to look at her. "Sit down Lily."

Obediently she sat down. "What's wrong Joe?"

"I got something for you. Local Feds brought it to me." He pushed his hat back, toying with his necklace. "It's your call whether or not you want to run it."

"Okay. What's the play?"

"You ever hear of the Church of the Repentant Sinner?"

She shook her head.

"Supposed to be a religious organisation. Our boys think they're a little dirtier than that. Murder extortion, usual shit."

"You want me to help find out what's going on?" Her excitement was back, flaring up like a match.

"I'm not going to lie to you Lily. It's a risky play. It's going to be a deep cover op, and it's a long game. No breaks. No time outs." He hunted for his cigars, playing for time. "But you're the only one I got who can pull this off and you did great on the Miller case."

Her smile shone in her face. "You think so."

"Yeah. You stayed in character, went with the flow, improvised and we got a result out of it." He lit a cigar. "I think you can do this. I swear to God, I wouldn't bring this to you if I didn't. But it's your call."

Lily didn't hesitate. "Lets do it."

**The End of the Prologue.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Darnell rubbed sweat from his brow, taking a moments rest under the burning Los Angeles sun, looking around the docks. His eyes kept wandering back to John and Michael, talking quietly in the midst of all the noise. Every now and then, John would point at another worker, and say something to Michael. Sometimes the two would talk briefly. Often Michael would nod and make a note in a grubby, dog eared notebook.

He flexed his shoulders, trying to work the stiffness out of them. They were picking the team to work on the next shipment. He kept glancing at them out of the corner of his eye, wondering if they had considered him yet. He had to get himself on that team. The case needed it.

"Hey Darnell! Could you give us a hand here?"

"Sure!" He ran over to the side of the barge, bracing himself against the ridge of the dock. Sliding his hands underneath the crate. "Easy now. Just let me get a grip on this sucker. Easy." He tightened his hands around it, feeling the rough wood cut against the calluses on his hands, the nails cold against the damp sweat on his palms. "Ready? Okay, 1, 2, 3. Lift."

He straightened his knees, grunting with the effort, careful to keep his back straight. He took the strain for a second while Jim adjusted his grip. Then Darnell glanced over his shoulder and started to walk backwards, keeping the pace nice and slow.

The damn crate was heavy.

He could feel the sweat trickle out of his hair, dripping past the bandana. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes.

Then Jim slipped, just at the edge of the barge, his hands losing their grip on the crate.

"Fuck!" Darnell staggered backwards, trying to keep his grip, feeling it slip from his fingers. He heard Jim swear, heard pandemonium break out at the docks, his muscles tensing as the crate started to overbalance, fall from his tenuous hold.

Strong hands caught it, steadied the load.

"Shit, this fuckers heavy!"

"Hurry the fuck up!" Darnell tried to move, tried to give Michael a better place to grip. He could feel his arms starting to ache, his muscles driven off balance by the sudden shift in momentum. "I don't know how much longer I can hold this fucking thing."

"Just a second." Michael fumbled, for a second longer. Then the pressure and load on Darnell eased. "There. Got a grip on the fucker."

"Where are we going with this, boss?"

"Just back and to your left." Michael gestured with his head, sweat beading across his own brow. "Just into that warehouse. Yeah, that one."

Darnell, looking over his shoulder, guided the load towards the warehouse. He pushed the door open with his foot, manoeuvring to let Michael slide easily through the door. "Where do we put this?"

"Just put it down in the corner. Fucking carefully, now. That fucking asshole nearly got you both in the shit."

Darnell eased the load down, watching the concentration in Michaels' face. He pressed his hand against the small of his back, grateful to be out of the sun.

"You okay man?"

"Yeah." Darnell grimaced as he stretched. "I just strained myself a little when that fucking nimrod let it slip. I'll be okay."

Michael smiled, glanced at the door and then took a step closer to Darnell. "Listen man, are you busy later?"

"No, not really." Darnell was careful not to let his excitement show in his face. "Supposed to meet my girlfriend at about ten, but nothing before that."

"Bunch of us are going for a beer in Haddocks. You wanna join us? I got a little extra business, and I like to push some of it on to the dock crew."

"Sure."

"This guy is a real dick."

Heather put the file down on her bed and walked to her dresser, towelling her hair dry. She sat down in front of her mirror, pressing her fingers against her cheekbones. "How do I want to play this?"

She stretched out behind her, managing to reach the file and lifting it by her fingertips. "He's married." She scanned another few lines. "Fifteen years. No mention of either of them straying, at least not in the gossip pages." She put the file down and stared at herself in the mirror. "So. Sexy, professional, yet just out of reach." She smiled at her reflection, knowingly coy. "Maybe."

"So enthusiastic and helpful, but not too enthusiastic. Not too much make up either, fresh faced. Professional, and skilled rather than a whore." Heather frowned, watching her forehead crease. "I hate to admit this, but Lily would probably have been a better choice for this." She smoothed cream across her skin, watching as the blotches and imperfections faded away.

She loved this part of the job. Getting ready, slipping into the role.

Satisfied with her make up, she walked across her room to her wardrobe. She looked at the clock, making sure that she still had time to get cross town and meet her new boss. It would not do to be late on her first day.

"So, trouser suit or skirt?" She lifted both out of the wardrobe. Holding first one, then the other against her body in front of the mirror. "I think the skirt." Even her voice had changed, slipping into the mannerism of the character. She tried to pretend that she wasn't talking to herself. "I don't want him groping me from the very start." She looked at the photo and shivered. "But I do want him to notice me."

She held the skirt against her again and nodded. "The skirt it is. And I have a nice blouse and blazer that'll complete the outfit." She started to dress, checking her appearance in the mirror as she did, making sure that they looked the part.

Her cellphone, lying on top of her bedside dresser, started to ring, while she was choosing shoes. She picked it up, looked at the number and pressed the answer button.

"Hey Joe."

"Heather? I barely recognised your voice. I like the accent."

"Thanks. One of my better efforts." She crouched down, lifting a pair of sandals out. She looked at them for a second, then put them back.

"You okay? Ready for your first day?"

"Yeah, I'm just trying to pick shoes."

"That's good, your ride's going to be there in about five minutes."

"My ride?"

"I booked you a cab. Marvin's the driver. He's another one of our guys. If you need to get information to me. Phone…you got a pen?"

"Just a second." She flicked open her diary and lifted a pen. "Fire away."

"077196775538, and ask for Marvin." Joe's voice was slurred around his cigar. "Means you can get information to me, even if you cant get near a phone."

"Good plan."

"Keep your phone on anyway, you hear me? Be careful." Joe broke the connection.

She heard a horn beep outside her apartment. She looked out and saw an LA cab. She raised her hand, then grabbed a pair of shoes and hurried out the door.

Joe hung up the phone, setting his cell phone down on his desk. Resting his aching head in his hand. Resisting the temptation to rub his burning eyes.

He hadn't slept much.

He'd spent his time looking into the Church of the Repentant Sinner, reading over Tim's files. The more he read about the organisation, the more convinced he became that Tim was right. The Church of the Repentant Sinner was wrong and needed to be taken down.

The more frightened he became.

Sweet Jesus, he was sending Lily into this?

What had he been thinking when he had agreed to take this case? When he had let her talk herself into taking this role?

When he had talked her into doing it?

He shook his head angrily. Trying to banish the dark thoughts. She was good, maybe even good enough to pull this off. Darnell had had his doubts about her, about her stomach for the work. But she had been good recently.

She might be good, but she was only a fucking kid.

This was one play where he needed control. Needed control to keep his agent safe.

He picked up his desk phone and dialled Tim's number. Drumming his fingers against his desk in impatience.

"Hello?"

"Tim? It's Joe."

"Joe." He could imagine Tim, suddenly alert, sitting upright in his chair. "Did you talk to your agent?"

"I did."

"And?"

"And she's prepared to play the role."

"That's fantastic, Joe. This could really make the case…"

"Lets get the ground rules clear, Tim. It's your case, but it's my agent. I get control of the play book, I make the decisions, especially when it gets too hot for her."

"I want to be there for the briefings."

"No way. They know your face, Tim. I'm not going to put my agent at risk for your pride. I give you my word that I'll give you anything relevant."

"And that's the deal is it Joe?"

"That's the deal."

"Well I don't have a choice, really do I?"

"Mr Mulholland?" Heather extended her hand. "I'm Julie Carson. I'm your new assistant."

His handshake was cool and dry. "Hello, Ms Carson." He pointed at the seat on the other side of his desk. "Please. Have a seat."

Heather sat down on the edge of the seat, pretending to rearrange her skirt. Knowing his eyes were fixed on her legs.

When she looked up, his eyes, cold and impassive were fixed on her face. She fought against the urge to shiver.

"Welcome to the team." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, still fixed on her appraisingly.

"Pleased to be a part of it sir."

"Has anybody explained your duties to you?"

"Not yet sir."

His eyes didn't leave her face. "You'll have normal secretarial duties, typing and so forth. But you'll also have responsibility for my diaries, both professional and personal."

Heather nodded once. "I understand."

"This is a busy office, Ms Carson." He threw his pen on the desk. "I know what you think of me, what the papers say about me. That I'm nothing but a small time loser politician. Isn't that what you think of me?"

"Sir, I assure you…"

He waved his hand irritably. "It doesn't matter what they say about me now. It's all going to change in a few years. It's going to take a lot of work and some time, but I really think we can make a difference."

Heather knew political bullshit when she heard it. She also knew the right answer. "I'm sure we can sir."

She knew she'd said the right thing when he smiled, his eyes lighting up for the first time. He stood up. "Come on. I'll introduce you to the rest of the team."

"Darnell! Over here!"

He raised his hands to acknowledge Michael's greetings and started to thread his way through the crowds in Haddocks. The smell of cheap, strong booze and cheaper stronger cigarettes filled the air and the crowded bar, making his eyes water. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold the smell at bay.

Michael, John and three others from the crew where there. Darnell slide into the only free seat.

"You want a beer?"

"Sure."

Michael poured him a glass of beer from the pitcher. Darnell lifted it to his lips, nearly gagging on the sour smell. He moistened his lips politely with the beer, swallowing a mouthful. Then set his glass back down. He needed his wits about him tonight.

Michael topped up everybody else's glasses, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I got some more overtime."

This provoked a chorus of whoops and high fives around the table. Darnell sat back in his seat, painting a confused look across his face.

Michael caught his expression. "Look Darnell, it's easy. We just unload all the crates and then transfer them onto a lorry. Quick and easy." He light a small, black, ugly cigarette, and blew an unpleasant smoke ring across the table. "And its $300 a piece for two hours work, max. Easy money."

Darnell let his eyes widen. "That easy?"

"That easy." Michael took his cigarette out of his mouth, watching it burn down. "Look there's no pressure Darnell But I need to know now. Are you in or not?"

Darnell lifted his beer. "I'm in."

**The End of Chapter One**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Lily closed the door after her and walked away from the car. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding her threadbare jacket close to her body. Trying to keep the heat in. The nights were still chill.

She didn't look back, over her shoulder, at the car where he sat.

She could still hear Joe's instructions, running through her head, his words settling on her skin. "All I want you to do is gather information, Lily" he'd told her, unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. "No heroics, no fire fights, no showdowns with the bad guys." He'd looked away from the road for an instant. "Anytime you think they've made you, you just walk away. You hear me Lily?"

Lily had nodded and agreed, promised him, told him everything that he'd wanted to hear. Did Darnell have to listen to this every time he went on a play? Did Heather?

She tried to pretend that she wasn't expecting him to gun the engine, pull the car up alongside her, tell her to get in. That he was cancelling the play.

Lily walked around the corner, out of sight of the car. Her whole demeanour changed, her shoulders seeming to fold in on her, making her small frame even slighter, her stride grew even shorter, more hesitant.

It started to rain, as she walked, soaking through her clothes. Lily shivered. For all the heat of the Los Angeles day, the night still held a chill. "It wont be hard to pretend to be cold, wet and hungry" she smiled to herself. She hadn't eaten since Joe had told her the scenario, just to help her get into the part.

She heard voices, men talking softly, laughing, at the front of the building she knew to be owned by the Church of the Hallowed Saints. She hesitated, glancing at herself in the wing mirror of a parked car, making sure that her hair was tussled and her face smudged in the right places. Then she walked around the corner.

There were three men standing on the stairs leading up to the small hall, talking quietly among themselves. They fell silent when they saw her. Sounds of music, of voices raised in song and prayer, drifted from the hall. When they saw her take the first step, they exchanged smiles and one of them stepped down to meet her. "Where are you going sweetheart?"

Lily tried to dodge around him, but he blocked her path with his arm. "I heard I could get some food here." She stared at him through her fringe. "Maybe a bed."

He still had that strange smile on his face. "What's your name?"

"Lily."

"Well Lily, maybe you heard wrong." He was still smiling, glancing back over his shoulder at his friends. "And maybe you heard right."

She shifted from foot to foot. Only part of her nervousness was feigned. "Maybe. So there might be a bed here."

"Could be, could be. Whadya think, Ryan?"

Another of the men walked from the door of the hall. He was taller than the rest, broader across the shoulders. "I think we could find a bed for her." He eyes flicked across her face, then up and down her slender body. He reached out and grabbed her chin with thick fingers. Lily flinched as his fingers bit into her flesh. "Maybe if she were to show us what else she can do with that pretty little mouth of hers."

There was no warmth or amusement in his eyes.

Lily swallowed, trying to think, to figure out what to say. This was defiantly not in the script.

The doors of the hall opened and the congregation spilled out into the Los Angeles night. Black, white, well dressed and not, nodding and smiling at the three men surrounding her on the steps. Exchanging greetings with them, giving Lily encouraging, welcoming smiles.

Welcoming her to the congregation.

Ryan hastily released her chin. She had to fight the urge to rub it, certain his fingers had left marks on her skin. He raised his voice. "Of course you can get a meal and a bed here, Lily." He pointed at the man who had accosted her on the steps. "Michael will show you where you can get something to eat."

Lily couldn't resist looking for Joe's car as she was hustled into the hall. She knew he wouldn't be there, that it would have been too dangerous for them both for him to linger. But she looked for him anyway.

She was in.

xxxXXXxxx

Joe waited as long as he could. Sitting in his battered unmarked car, the lights off. Watching Lily.

When the first man put his hand on her arm, he almost panicked. Almost kicked the car into motion. Almost went charging in then and there, almost went charging to her rescue. He forced himself to wait, and just watch while she was brought into the Church through the crowd.

He dialled Tim's number on his phone and waited until he answered. "She's in."

"That's fantastic, Joe. How long until she's back in contact?"

"I don't know Tim, I'll be in touch when I'm in touch." Joe broke the connection, took one look at the church hall and drove off.

xxxXXXxxx

She pressed the button on the intercom. "Mr Mulholland?"

"Yes Julie?"

"Joseph De Almino and Francis Barton are here for their meeting, Mr Mulholland." Heather pretended to ignore the way Barton's eyes lingered on her, even as she 'unconsciously' shifted to allow him a better view. She knew these two- Joe's file had mentioned them as Mulholland's major financial backers, driving forces behind his rising career.

She could make a few guesses why they had come to his office late at night, as well.

"Thank you, Julie." She could almost imagine Frank, making himself more respectable, more alert behind his desk. "Will you bring them through, please?"

"Certainly sir." She stood up, suddenly, noting Francis' leer as her skirt rode up a little more. "This way please, gentlemen." She led the way to Mulholland's office, knocking on the door and pushing it open for his visitors.

Frank shook hands with them both. "Francis, Joseph. Thank you both for coming. Can I offer you some refreshments?" He turned to Heather. "Can you make some coffee please?"

She walked over to the sideboard and started to make the coffee, straining her ears to hear what was said.

"Well, Frank." She could hear the oily smile in De Almino's voice. "Time marches on, and we are starting to run out of it. Have you made a decision yet?"

"I have."

"And?"

"I'm going to run." Frank Mulholland smiled at Heather as she passed coffee around him and his guests. "And with your support, gentlemen, I will win."

De Almino lifted his coffee cup to his lips. "Just make sure you remember who your friends are when you do."

xxxXXXxxx

They'd put her in a small room, dark and narrow with a rock hard mattress and one small high window. She'd heard the door lock after she'd been put in.

It looked like a prison cell.

Lily heard voices outside her room and she scampered to the door, putting her ear against it to listen.

"Do you want to speak to her now, Reverend?"

What was his name? Ryan? She heard him jangle keys and she jerked her head away from the door.

"You said she looked tired, Ryan, didn't you?"

The other voice was tired, sad, world weary.

"She's homeless, Reverend. This is probably the first bed she's seen in months."

"Let her sleep, then Ryan." For all it's weariness, the voice could be decisive. "Tomorrow is as good a time as any."

xxxXXXxxx

For all the rain of the previous evening, the next day dawned bright and hot. The sun beating down on the docks.

Darnell stretched, straining his back, lifted another heavy barrel from the barge and rolling it across the dock.

"Darnell?"

"What?"

"I just wanted to say sorry." The other man shifted nervously. "For yesterday. I fucked up really badly."

Darnell concentrated on shifting the barrel into position. "Yeah you did."

"Well I'm sorry."

"Okay."

"So, are we cool?"

"Look man, you've had the balls to apologise and I respect that. But you fucked up badly and nearly got the both of us in the shit. So stay the fuck away from me." He rolled the barrel across the docks, manhandling it into position. He started to go back for another and then stopped. "Sam. Who's that with Michael?"

"Same peered at the man, shading his eyes with a thick tattooed hand. "LA Customs."

"Ah fuck."

Sam grinned at him, showing stained and golden teeth. "Don't worry about it man. This is all just for show." He nodded at Michael. "Our boy there knows just how to play this guy."

They watched as Michael and the official talked for a while longer. Then they shook hands and the Customs official walked off. Michael looked around, saw Darnell and Sam staring at him. He smiled and gave them the thumbs up.

Sam nudged Darnell. "Told ya."

xxxXXXxxx

"Morning Julie. You're in early."

"Good morning Mr Mulholland. We've a lot of work to do, especially now you've made your decision. I thought I'd make a start on it."

"Very good Julie. You know, with an attitude like that, you could go far." He laughed, enjoying his own joke. "What did you think of Francis and Joseph?"

Heather started, caught off guard. "I'm sorry sir, that's hardly my position to comment on…"

He waved his hand impatiently. "Come on Julie, you're an intelligent woman, and you've already proved that you are perceptive. So. What did you think of them?"

She swallowed hard. "I think that they're men that it would be better to stay on the right side of."

He tapped the desk. "I agree with you. But unfortunately, they are men I need, Julie. Powerful men."

"Rich men."

"Rich men, indeed." He nodded in agreement. "But rich and powerful men bring votes with them." He stood up and started to walk towards his office. "Votes I need if I am going to win this election. Money I'm going to need if I am going to rebuild LA." He stopped, staring at her until she met his eyes. "An attractive woman at your side helps as well."

Heather flushed with practiced ease. Looking away from him, throwing furtive looks at him through her eyelashes. Smiling shyly. She managed to hold her smile until he disappeared into his office.

xxxXXXxxx

Despite her wariness, Lily had fallen asleep in the uncomfortable bed.

She sat upright when she heard a key in the lock. A man walked into the room. Not Ryan. Smaller, black skinned, slighter. He looked around the room, still standing in the door way.

Lily risked her voice. "Hello?"

He turned towards her as soon as she spoke, moving with calm assurance. "You must be Lily." His eyes were clouded, milky white against his dark skin.

Lily nodded, realising it was a wasted gesture. "Yes." She made her voice as fragile and weak as possible.

He reached out, found and patted her hand. "Don't be afraid, child. You are safe now. I'm Moses McNeill, I run this place. I'm so glad you found us."

"I felt like I was in prison, Reverend."

His mouth twisted. "I'm sorry about that Lily. Some that come to us, they're violent or they try to score drugs or sell them. We do it as a matter of protection, both for them and for others that depend on us. I'll tell Ryan to leave your door unlocked from now on."

She remembered the expression on Ryan's face and shivered.

Jackson Alexander felt her movement. "Bad memories?"

"Something like that."

"How long were you homeless?"

"Too long."

"We do good work here Lily, but we need help. Ryan thinks you can help us here. Obviously, you're free to leave anytime you wish, if you want. Nobody will stop you. But I'm asking you, will you help us here?"

She cast about for a story, a line to dangle in front of a blind man. "I don't know if I'm the right person to help you Reverend." Even though she knew he couldn't see her, she dropped her gaze, letting her hair cover her eyes. "I haven't always been the best Christian."

"But you've made the first step, Lily. You've come to us. But you don't have to decide straight away. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, as long as you need to get yourself back on your feet." Sermon over, the Reverend jerked his head away, seeming to sniff the air. "I believe that breakfast is ready. Would you like to accompany me?"

"Me? I'd love to." Lily climbed out of bed and hastily pulled on her trousers and the battered jacket she had worn yesterday. Again, she smiled uselessly at the blind man. "Reverend? Just put your hand on my arm."

"Thank you, Lily." Despite his blindness, despite her pretence at guiding him, the Reverend set the pace, guiding her towards the mess hall. They walked past Ryan on their way, and he exchanged greetings with the Reverend.

Lily did her best to ignore him. Did her best to ignore his smile, and the way his gaze roamed across her body.

xxxXXXxxx

"You still here Julie?" Frank Mulholland pulled on his coat and stopped next to her desk, his eyes still coldly appraising her.

She couldn't meet his gaze. "Yes sir. I'm still finding my way around the filing system."

"So there's no way I could tempt you into a drink?"

Heather forced a smile from somewhere. "No sir, I'm just going to work on for a little bit longer."

"Well, don't work too late. I'll see you in the morning. Night Julie."

"Night Mr Mulholland." She waited until he had left, before opening up his financial records again. "So he gets a cheque for $500,000 once a month from Barton and another one from De Almino." She paged through the records. "And there are withdrawls of $50,000 once twice three four times a month, all to a registered account."

She picked up a pen and wrote down the account numbers. Joe would definitely want to see those.

**End of Chapter Two.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"I'm telling you, Joe, this guy is dirty." Heather blew a smoke ring out of the corner of her mouth, stubbing the half smoked ashtray out on the overflowing ashtray. "He's up to his neck in it."

Joe nodded, relaxing against the back of the booth. "What have you got for me?"

"He's a leech."

"That I knew. What else?"

"He's going to run in the election." Heather lifted her coffee cup, leaning forward, smiling over the rim of the cup, looking for all the world like a secretary meeting a friend for lunch. "Joseph de Almino and Francis Barton are financing the campaign."

"Anything else?"

"He's…wary of them. He's not scared of them. Not exactly." She frowned, taking a mouthful of coffee. "He knows he needs them and he knows enough to keep on the right side of them." She glanced at her watch. "I'd better be getting back." She stood up, lifting her purse.

"Okay, Heather." Joe put his hat on, angling it low on his head. "Be careful."

"I will." She started to walk away, then hesitated. "Has there been any word from her?"

There was no need to ask who Heather was talking about.

"Nothing yet."

"She's good, Joe. She'll be okay." Heather adjusted her bag, waiting to if Joe would say anything else. He stayed, slumped in the corner of the booth, staring blankly into space. "I'll be in touch."

She walked out of the diner, leaving Joe with his dark thoughts.

xxxXXXxxx

The man smiled at her as she handed him a cup of hot soup, revealing blackened teeth and gums. He shuffled off, clutching the soup, joining the crowd milling around the hall.

Lily smiled back, glancing around the room. The Rev McNeil walked slowly, unerringly around it, slipping easily through the knots of people. He stopped with every group, speaking a few words with them, leading them in a brief prayer.

She looked away quickly. It wasn't the Rev McNeil she was looking for.

She found them easily enough.

Standing together, at the end of the hall, huddled in their own little circle, talking quietly amongst themselves. Every now and then, one of them would glance around the hall, checking the progress of Rev McNeil around the hall.

She had learnt their names quickly enough. James Harmon. Matthew Patterson. Peter Magee. And Ryan Patrick.

The Rev McNeil's right hand, with his own group of apostles. Nothing happened in the Church of the Repentant Sinner without his knowledge, without his say so. Without his permission.

He frightened her.

Lily looked around the hall, trying to find a reason to get closer to them, to hear what they were discussing so intently, their voices low, cutting underneath the rumble of conversation in the hall.

She felt his eyes on her, burning into her skin like a brand. She forced herself not to jump, not to look around. Just to keep working. Just ignore his gaze wandering across her body.

He frightened her. And he knew it.

xxxXXXxxx

"Darnell! My man!" Michael gripped his hand tightly. "How are things hanging?"

"Low and lazy." Darnell shrugged, smiling, his gold tooth glinting. "my girl doesn't complain. Are we set?"

His boss nodded. "All set for tomorrow night. Just hang around the docks after the end of your shift." He took a long drag of his cigarette. "Sam'll show you what cases we need unloaded."

"How does he know what cases to unload?"

Michael paused for a second, staring at Darnell with narrowed eyes, cigarette held in the corner of his mouth. Darnell swallowed hastily, plunging ahead into the gap, trying to cover his mistake. "Just so I know what to do."

Michael held his gaze for a second longer, then laughed and clapped Darnell on the back. "Don't you worry about that! Sam knows what to do. You just follow what he does, and he'll keep you right."

"Okay. How many of us are on?"

"Why do you ask questions like that?"

Darnell grinned, ruefully. "I promised my girl something nice. Just wanted to know how far it's going to be spread."

Michael laughed again. "You, Sam and a couple of others. Don't worry, Darnell, this'll be well worth your time."

xxxXXXxxx

"Any word?"

Marcy shook her head. Joe bit back a curse and stalked past her, slamming the door of his office behind him. He threw his hat onto the couch and sank into his chair, tilting it back, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

She was just a kid. She was good, and she had guts, but she was just a kid.

His phone squawked. Eyes still closed, he stabbed at the speaker button. "Yeah?"

"Joe, I got Tim on the phone. He wants an update."

Tim. If he hadn't brought this case, if he hadn't needed things done so fucking quickly, then he wouldn't have to put Lily in so deep, would have had time to put a decent play together.

"Joe? Are you there?"

"Yeah. I'm here. Tell Tim he'll get an update when I've got something to tell him." He hit the disconnect button, leaving his office in silence.

xxxXXXxxx

Heather slipped back into the office, moving quietly, easing the door closed behind her.

"What are you wearing?"

Frank Mulholland's voice echoed around the deserted office.

"Oh yeah. I love it when you wear that. You look so sexy wearing that."

Heather glanced around the office and tip toed over to his door, moving silently on her toes. Grateful that she had learned to move quietly in such uncomfortable shoes. She stepped to the side of his door, listening carefully.

"Are you going to wear that tonight? Are you going to be a naughty girl?" His breathing grew heavier, more erratic. "Is daddy going to have to spank his naughty little girl?"

Heather crept back to the door of the office, opened it and slammed it closed. She heard, even without meaning, Frank Mulholland scrambling in his office, hanging up the phone.

Somehow, she didn't think he had been talking to his wife.

xxxXXXxxx

"What are you doing here?"

Lily stiffened. Suddenly conscious of him, standing behind her. His breath warm against the back of her neck, raising goose bumps on the sensitive skin.

His body behind hers, pressed against her. Looming over her. Cutting off any hopes of escape.

"J-j-j-ust looking for a bad." Her voice shook and she hated herself for the weakness.

Like a shark, he went for the kill. "Just looking for a bed?" He ran his hand across her trembling stomach, rising up to cup her breast. "Well if you wanted a bed, Lily, all you had to do…"

Lily closed her eyes at his touch. Trying to stop shaking, trying to control her rush of fear.

"Ryan?"

Suddenly his hand was gone, the pressure against her body eased. She opened her eyes, looking around.

The Rev McNeil stood in the doorway, his sightless eyes fixed unerringly on them. "Ryan? Ryan, are you there?"

Ryan stepped back from her, his eyes still fixed on her. "Yes, Reverend?' His voice thick with lust.

"I need your help with something."

"Okay, Reverend." Ryan took the blind man's arm, guiding him back into the main hall of the church.

Leaving Lily alone, her body still shaking, trembling from his touch.

**End of Chapter Three.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Even a prison cell can feel safe.

Lily sat on the bed, staring at the door. Waiting, wondering if he would come for her. She'd locked the door as soon as she had gotten back to her room, the lock sliding home with a satisfying thud. She'd even allowed herself a brief smile of satisfaction.

The panic had return a mere instant later and she had backed away from the door, her hand going instinctively to her mouth. Ryan had the keys for every door in the hostel.

That door wouldn't stop him.

Fear gave her strength and she pushed the chair against the door, tipping of it underneath the handle, then retreated as far from the door as she could get.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, making herself as small as possible, resting her forehead against her knees.

Another tremor raced through her body as she remembered the ease with which he'd trapped her, his breath against her neck, his hands on her body.

How could she stop him, if he came for her?

Weariness coursed through her, and she shook her head, trying to fight through the accompanying yawn. She didn't want to fall asleep.

He would be waiting for her in her dreams.

xxxXXXxxx

Darnell ate quickly, tearing into his breakfast like he had never seen food before.

"It's all set for tomorrow night, boss."

Joe toyed idly with his coffee cup, trying to keep his mind on the job. "How many?"

"About five." Darnell paused, chewing a piece of bacon he washed down with a mouthful of coffee. "Michael wasn't real clear on the numbers. I got the feeling there were a few more people he wanted to speak to."

"Do you know what crates the stuff is in yet?"

"Not yet." Darnell shook his head. "Sam knows which ones we're to move. What do you want me to do?"

"Go to work. Do the overtime. Find out what crates and where they're moving them to." Joe patted absently at his shirt, looking for his cigars. "I want this closed down as quickly as possible."

"Before they can get the stuff underground?"

"Yeah. I'll have the LAPD standing by. Don't worry, they'll be well back." Joe grinned, producing a cigar which he clamped between his teeth. "You'll be home soon."

"Good." Darnell finished his breakfast, pushing the plate across the table away from him. "Have you heard from her yet?"

Joe's smile slipped away. "No."

xxxXXXxxx

Heather slipped into Frank Mulholland's office, taking care to close the door after her. The rest of the office was out for lunch, but she didn't want to run the risk of anyone seeing her. Just a quick search, a quick look through his desk.

The girl.

They had to find out who the girl was to put pressure on Mulholland, force him out of the race, force him to expose his criminal connections. Blackmail him with the threat of exposure.

It was a good plan. Quick, effective, tried and trusted. Provided of course, she could get some leverage to use against Frank Mulholland.

She had to find the girl.

Heather lifted one of the files, flipping quickly through the neatly typed pages.

And another.

And another.

Time ticking by as she read through the reports, opening the drawers in his desk, looking through them.

"Damnit!"

She sank into his chair, resting her head in her hands in frustration. "Nothing. There's nothing here." She sat back, shaking her head. "He's trying to keep this girl separate from the rest of his life and he's managing to do it!"

She drummed her fingers on the desk, looking around the office. The drumming slowed, then stopped, a smile spreading across her face, staring at it.

"Stupid, Heather. You're getting sloppy."

His private rolodex.

xxxXXXxxx

"Tim." His superior fixed him with a piercing glance above his fine rimmed glasses. "Where are we on the Repentant Sinner investigation?"

He swallowed briefly, caught off guard by the question. "We have an agent undercover within the organisation. We're just waiting on her report."

The supervising agent lifted his eyebrows. "You haven't heard from her yet?"

"No sir. We're still waiting on her making contact."

"I expect to be kept informed at every stage of this investigation, Tim. I want a report on my desk, first thing in the morning."

"Yes sir." Tom stood up, lifting his portfolio and papers walking out of the briefing room with his cheeks burning. 'Damn you, Joe. You'd better not be holding out on me.'

xxxXXXxxx

She found him in a basement bar, sitting alone, his hat on the bar next to him, smoking a cigar, a number of empty glasses arranged in front of him. She sighed and walked over to him, her heels echoing around the mostly empty bar.

He signalled at the barman as she drew closer. "Drink for the lady."

She sighed heavily. "What are you doing, Joe?"

"Having a drink."

"It's not going to make Lily get in touch any quicker…."

"Lily? Why would this have anything to do with Lily? This has nothing to do with Lily." He stubbed out his cigar, careful to not meet her eyes. "I just wanted a drink, it's not a crime."

"At three in the afternoon?" Marcy grinned bitterly, sitting down on the stool next to him. "That's not like you, Joe." She lifted the beer, taking a drink.

"Yeah, well there's a few changes I needed to make anyway." He tossed back another drink and signalled at the barman. "Line em up."

"And for me."

He grinned at her, swaying slightly on his stool. "I thought you didn't approve of afternoon drinking."

Marcy shrugged, lifting up the shot glass. "I don't. But someone's gotta make sure you get home in one piece."

xxxXXXxxx

"Well, now. Isn't that interesting?"

Heather lifted the card out of the rolodex, staring at the number printed carefully on it. And at the handwritten name and number scribbled below it, in Frank Mulholland's own messy hand.

"Joe's gonna want to see this."

This might just be the leverage they were looking for.

She put the card inside her purse, carefully rearranging his desk so it looked untouched. Then stood up, taking one last look around, making sure that the office looked undisturbed.

She nodded to herself, satisfied and walked towards the door.

Then froze, her hand stretched out towards the door handle.

There was someone else, outside Frank Mulholland's office.

xxxXXXxxx

Darnell lit the cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth, making a show of smoking it. Looking around at the other workers, still hanging around the docks.

Sam. Mark. Jim. Tony. And him.

He stood by himself, waiting on Sam, the other three standing close together, passing around a hip flask.

Sam came out of Michael's office, holding a manifest in his hand. Darnell took another drag of his cigarette and threw away the dog end. "We ready, boss?"

Sam nodded, still reading through the manifest. "Yeah."

"Which container?"

He looked up, checking the numbers against the manifest. "That one. We need crates 2, 6, 7 and 21." He folded up the piece of paper and tucked it into his back pocket. "Lets get started."

Mark took a last nip from his hip flask and tucked it back inside his jacket and they all walked towards the container Sam had indicated.

Darnell trailed after them, fighting against the urge to look around the docks.

He wondered how close the police were.

**The End of Chapter Four.**


End file.
